How They Met
by DaisyChainsAndHandGrenades
Summary: Ever wondered how Voldemort and Quirrell met... T to be safe


AN: Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter but the plot line is mine. :)

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The blue sky was overthrown by darkness. Twisted trees, throwing themselves in the path of the full moon's yellow glaze. Walking in the debris left by the fiends of the night was a man, his dented dragon-skin boots to guide him; he allowed his torn, bleak purple cloak to follow him, his battered and bruised note book in hand, to remind him of the wisdom he had gained. This life was not enough for Quirinus Quirrell; he wanted more.

As darkness loomed greater into the depths of the forest, Quirrell learned he did not have much time left to escape this realm of impurities. He had even less time to return to the remote camp site he called home. The only thing lighting the forest were two perfectly glistening jewels, beckoning him closer.

Hypnotised by the warm glow emitted by these unusual jewels, Quirrell judged whether to investigate. "No," he ordered himself. His mind, however, disobeyed his judgement and before he knew it he was walking through the caging forestry, trapping him for eternity.

The walking seemed like an eternity. No matter how far he walked, the jewels seemed to be further, ever away.

He sped up his pace.

But the forest was against him. The cobwebs grabbed him, branches whipped him back, twigs screamed in agony, leaves whispered their warning.

Curiosity had him by the collar tugging him closer while his eyes were mesmerised by the penetrating jewels.

Quirrell's heart was thumping, throbbing, pulsating. Emotions questioning his senses. He noticed it. The jewels halted. Quirinus knew to stop; yet Quirrell wanted to continue. He closed his eyes and took one very small, very cautious step and pleaded that they hadn't moved. Opening his eyes, reluctantly. The jewels power was more intense, enticing Quirrell to keep advancing forward. Now was his chance. Quirrell dashed towards them, clenching his teeth together detaining his heart inside.

Sprinting towards the jewels made Quirrell's soul emerge with his mind making him hollow inside. Faster and faster. Closer and closer. His eyes lit up. Quirrell was too empowered by the target in sight

He bounded past the last few menacing trees and into a large clearing. Quirrell looked up, the moon's displeasing gaze pieced into him. He gulped but carried on. No broken branches on the ground, no cobwebs grabbing him, no branches whipping him back, no twigs screaming in agony, no leaves whispering warnings.

Just silence.

A moment after Quirrell had evaluated his surroundings; he noticed that the jewels were not as they seemed. They blinked

Belonging to a cloaked, hooded figure that was standing alone, in the centre of the bleak area were eyes. No longer a warm familiar light, these eyes glared at Quirrell. Stabbing his mind's every doubt, every memory, emotion, hatred and desire, the figure lifted his head up. With his talon like hands, he lowered the hood to reveal a translucent man. Horror pieced threw Quirrell, this man, this beast, this murderer. Reawakened in this world.

"Curiouser and curiouser, who would have thought that a man, much like yourself would save me," his airy voice, commanded the attention of the blithering coward that stood before him. "Quirinus Quirrell, not one of mine but indeed you will be. I, Lord Voldemort, will rise again! You've just proven your worth to me," Claiming Quirrell's infantile stare and making him listen more attentively. "My eyes beckoned you here, did they not? At any time you could have chosen to leave and you didn't," Quirrell looked away, towards the moon. He longed for the moon's protection however it covered itself up with a cloud leaving an unholy darkness behind. "This conveys determination and, no doubt that the idea of glory appeals to you" Quirrell said nothing, without the night protecting him; he had nothing to lose. "I can offer you glory," Voldemort continued, "if you help me complete one small favour."

Without hesitating, Quirrell rapidly asked, "what would this small favour would that be exactly?" Quickly thinking about what he said, Quirrell looked sheepishly at Voldemort forgetting that status the man once had. But the idea of glory still played on his heart. Voldemort cocked his head towards Quirrell and smiled, slyly.

"Nothing deadly, just take me somewhere," Voldemort looked into the depth of Quirrell eyes. Quirrell pleased that such an easy task could fetch him much glory, nodded eagerly. With that, Voldemort threw himself Quirrell. Quirrell propelled back with sheer force and falling at the feet of an old, dwelling tree. Pain like fire and ice burning the back of his head. Touching it with hands shaking, he felt two rounded leather bumps above two cracked lines which moved.

"Stop touching me." Voldemort hissed, "Cover me using your cloak and leave this place." Quirrell hurriedly followed Voldemort's orders. "Ready, boy?"

"Y..yes. I…I think I am"

The unholy plague darken trees and all life vanished. Tree were stripping there bark, leaves crumpling themselves on the bare, harsh floor and the animals lie immobilised on the forest floor. Bitter, shards of wind leading Quirrell's way into the immoral unknown.

"Now, to Hogwarts."


End file.
